


Fly Away

by cascadedEquilibrium



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But he leaves him with his mom, Estrangement, Hanzo has a son (yay), I might add tags later, M/M, Past Arranged Marriage, Takes place 16 years after the canon, enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascadedEquilibrium/pseuds/cascadedEquilibrium
Summary: He never knew who was his father...and now the man was right in front of him_________________________________________________________________Arata Miyazaki,a renowned thief known as 'Dragonfly', was known for rescuing stolen artifacts from the black market and back to their respective museums and owners. One day,he tasks himself to return a sword taken from the infamous,yet quiet Hanamura.He wouldn't have gone through with it except his stupid imaginary dragon insisted on going to 'reclaim his heritage and take up his true name.'





	1. Prologue

The road was bursting with cars as a mother and her child wait for the stop light to go red. The blur of people and colors surrounded them,all in a stand still as they waited for the light to turn red. 

"Mama...." 

She looked down at the child.

Her child,she corrected herself. 

Kira Miyazaki kept reminding herself that this was her son, her offspring. Not some forced mistake from her past, back when she was under her family's imperial watch to be the perfect wife for......no, she cannot even dare think of his name. 

"Yes?"

He looked a lot like her,from his button nose to his delicate face,and yet,his eyes were his father's. 

"Where's my dad?"

She almost froze at the question.

_'He is just six years old, Kira,'_ she chided in her head, _'Do not get so worked up,he's probably talking about Roger.'_

The young boy looked up at his mother, waiting for her answer.

"He is at work," she said with a tired smile and looked at her son, "We will see him soon."

"No,I mean my real dad," he said with a frustrated look on his face.

Confusion struck her, she never recalled a moment where she told him the truth about his biological father.

"What do you mean? Roger is your father."

He shook his head. "But yesterday,you were talking to him about my real dad. I want to know who he is."

The smile on her face dropped.

"I'll tell you when you're older...."

"But you always say that," a pout appeared on his face. "I want to know NOW !!!"

"Don't raise your voice at me," she said coldly as she tightened the grip on his wrist. _'He shouldn't have known about this'_ she thought as paranoia filled her mind.

"Mama, you're hurting me." 

When the tears started to form in his eyes as he struggled to get out of her grip, Kira's annoyance melted away and was replaced with guilt and concern.

Right, this was a child.

Her child, she remembered. Not a mistake.

She crouched down to her son's eye level and hugged him as people stared at the pair with confusion and prejudice. Whispers of "What happened?" and "Who does this woman think she is?" 

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, "It's just....really hard for mama to talk about right now." 

"...." 

She pulled back a bit and looked right into his eyes while the people went on with their own little lives.

"Just know that your father was an honorable, but bad man. Promise me you won't be like him."

"But h-how would I know if I'm becoming like him if I don't know him?" he said through the sniffles.

"That's what I'm counting on. Now come on, we have to get home," she said as she led her child through the busy crowd. Her mind was reeling back to that small outburst and how it reminded her of one of her family's scoldings. One she vividly remembered as the worst lecture she had ever received, one that instilled her with the same fear and paranoia she has today. 

No, she will not end up like her family.

Not this time.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Hanzo Shimada looked down upon his sleeping lover, who was currently hugging the archer's waist.

He kissed his forehead and made his way to the balcony after struggling to get his arms off of him. 

Somewhere, the dragons sensed his son's fear that faded quickly. It made him wonder about where his son might be at this moment. If he's doing alright with his mother, if he's doing well in school, if his son was outgoing like his uncle or if he was as introverted as Hanzo while he was still a child himself. 

Would he even be aware of him, or will he be ignorant of his existence? (He doubted the latter since it's hard to not notice a giant tattoo that would suddenly appear on his person in between his teen years)

All his life, after running from the Shimada-gumi, he realized the mistake of letting go of his son and went after them a month later after their departure. He really didn't mind leaving his ex-wife behind, as cruel as it was. Their marriage wasn't based on love after all, just business and survival. He later realized that it was selfish of him to go after them and decided to take up his path of redemption alone. At least with his mother, he had a life that Hanzo never got until he was thirty. 

A life of normality

A life of freedom

Large, familiar arms circled his waist once more as he felt the other man's weight behind him.

"Why are ya out here, darlin' ?" 

He leans on him and looks up at the cowboy, "I am just thinking of the past...."

Jesse placed a chaste kiss on his forehead as a sign of reassurance. Hanzo smiled at the gesture as he drowned himself in the gunslinger's warm embrace.

But at the back of his head, he still felt worry and longing for his lost son.

For that was what most parents do when separated from their child.


	2. 16 years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance about the various mistakes I've made while describing the Shimada estate....So please spare me.

The small village of Hanamura was quiet. 

The shops that most tourists would visit were closed, the only noise that can be heard were the rustling of the synthetic Sakura trees and soft thumping coming from a club nearby. Ancient and modernized buildings alike had long shadows as the moon shone above them, revealing a surprise visitor flying above the castle's roof.

Arata looked down at the castle grounds with his cybernetic eye, scanning each and every obstacle. Guarding the main temple were two guards that usually watched over it's entrance during the night while the others roamed the Shimada estate. Alarms were tactically hidden in between beams and cracks to the point of it being untraceable. He was almost sure that there would be a laser grid somewhere inside, but his scanner picked up nothing of the sort. 

He looked at the sword that was safely sheathed at his side along with his sake and hand crossbow. It felt awfully... right for the sword to be at his side while looking down at both the castle and the village, the thief thought. He quickly dismissed that thought as wishful thinking and watched the guards at the entrance leave once their shift was over, he had ten minutes before the new guards arrive. The thrill of the situation made him grin.

It's time.

He carefully glided towards the second floor balcony and landed on top of it's roof. He took another scan and saw a guard on each corner, both ready to sound the alarms in case an intruder decided to sneak in (which was happening right now under their watch). He felt his wings and oxygen mask de-construct themselves as he waited for them to face the entrance that lead to the inner court. As soon as they turned around,the rogue skillfully bashed one right on the pressure point located near the neck and he quickly boosted himself towards the other with his prosthetic wings and knocked him out as well.

Arata dragged the both of them at the center, propping them against each other and placed a sake gourd in the hand of one guard and a small cup in another. He looked down before taking back the gourd and opened it, he spilled some sake on both of their uniforms before he placed the gourd back. He held back a few snickers as he walked into the castle's spacious room. 

He immediately jumped down to the first floor and approached his target. Under the hazy orange light was a table that had a stand on it, behind it was a big scroll with it's right corner torn and a few bloodstains on it. The room read ancient and the young man would've been impressed if he didn't see such rooms on a daily basis, but he has seen quite an amount of them in his line of work. Still, it was grand nonetheless. 

He walked towards the table, feeling each grove of the beams he passed. There was definitely a lot of history. Bloody history, at that. He approached the table and unsheathed the blade at his side, gently placing it on it's respective stand before being followed by the scabbard. 

Pride filled his heart as he tells himself it's another job well done. He turned away from the table and made his way back. Yet, a voice at the back of his head kept telling him to take back the sword and stay here in this village. Like both were rightfully his. He shook his head in disbelief for even feeling that way, like he could ever do that with a hefty ten million on his head for just breaking and entering various museums to return stolen artifacts from the black market. 

What more if he actually kept what he stole?

As he walked away, black dots slowly danced around his vision before completely collapsing. Dread filled him as he saw the newly replaced guards at the main entrance point at him and set the alarms off. They were running towards him before his vision failed completely. He blurted out a single sentence with a very tired yet knowing tone.

"Not this again."

Then everything was dark.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Arata was laying down on the water,looking up at the cloudy sky. 

No, he wasn't floating, he was literally touching the surface of the water while miraculously not getting wet. He was not wearing his usual leather jacket, nor his black jeans and (stolen) custom-made boots. Instead, he wore a baggy white t-shirt and matching white boxer shorts, revealing his teal dragon tattoo found on his right leg. 

He knew what these dreams meant, he knew who would speak to him in a few seconds, but he never knew why they happened. Probably because of his lonely lifestyle, or maybe it was because he might have some mild neurosis. He wasn't so sure of it.

"Hello, youngling." said an ancient voice behind him. Speak of the devil.

"Ahh, there he is. Hello, my favorite delusion," he said as he stood up, "What brought me here this time? Are you here to give me a cookie? Possibly give me another indecipherable piece of advice? Because as you might've seen, I was in the middle of a VERY important job."

There in front of him was a great teal dragon, the exact same as the one on his tattoo. From its snake-like body to the ox horns it proudly carries. It's mane was like golden thread, along with it's whiskers and beard, soft and flowing, but giving it a cadence meant for royalty. The scales shone like a rainbow as each one hit the light, it's eyes were sharp yet warm. Sharpened claws ready to tear anything apart while the posture, regal and wise. 

The dragon only rolled it's eyes, "I wish that you would stop addressing me like that. I have a name." 

"Then can you tell me?" 

"You cannot have my name unless you find yours." 

Arata groaned. Why must he always answer in riddles ?

"Alright, I get it. The same old thing you tell me every time." He folded his arms. "Just tell me why I'm here again, oh great figment of my imagination?" The man practically began mocking it. "I haven't seen you since two months ago, when you told me to go and carry out the job you just so happened to be interrupting."

"If any of my brothers and sisters had heard you, they would've been outraged. You are lucky that I do not care about how you treat me." The dragon stooped down towards Arata's face. "I have called you here to ask why you decided to give away your inheritance and then beg that you reclaim it at once." 

"What do you mean? The sword? If you haven't noticed, it is supposed to belong to the Shimada-gumi. Not some modern day Robin Hood out to steal whatever he sets his mind to."

"It is not merely the sword. It is the origin of it." 

"Hanamura? Okay, now I know that you have _completely_ lost it.... Well, more like I've completely lost it, considering that you are part of _my_ imagination."

The dragon flared up, making both its and the man's hair stand on end, even for a half of a second, "Be that way, you stubborn-headed child. I have given you the advice you need about your true origin, your true name. Yet here you are. Being a petty thief, avoiding what your gut tells you, blind to what is so blatantly obvious."

"One, all you've given me is riddles. And two, you are the one who told me to make a name for myself." Arata said, his voice heavy with sarcasm and venom, accusing the dragon of what was only the truth.

"I said no such thing. I simply told you to find it."

"Well, I'm sorry for not understanding such simple instructions, but would it hurt to give me a straightforward answer just once?"

"Just as I thought. You are too dense to see something so obvious. I wonder how you've survived for so long without my guidance." The dragon was beginning to act as if he were the temperamental teenager.

"I've survived pretty well, actually. The real question is how on earth I survived following your stupid advice." He said, raising his voice more and more.

"Perhaps if you followed my instructions properly-"

"Here we go again about instructions. Follow this, follow that. Honestly, is that all you're going to say to me whenever we talk?!" 

The dragon rose to the sky, glaring down at the thief. "I AM JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU, YOU IGNORANT BRAT!"

"SINCE WHEN DID I EVER ASK FOR IT?!! YOU JUST SHOWED UP ONE DAY AND TOLD ME "Hey, go find your name" AND I TRIED. I TRIED SO HARD. LOOK AT WHERE THAT GOT ME!! I GOT SURGERY FROM A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION AND WAS TORTURED FOR TWO _FUCKING_ YEARS. SO PLEASE, JUST TRY TO UNDERSTAND... Please... I can't.." his words slowly trailed off into sobs. 

The dragon gradually began feeling guilty for it's actions and sighed. The serpent shrunk and wrapped itself around his neck as Arata calmed himself. He crouched down and steadied his breathing.

"I'm sorry, but it's just..." he said and sniffed mid-sentence, at a loss for words and unsure of what to say. He rubbed his back,feeling the prosthetic located along his right scapula and grimaced at the thought of the procedure he had gone through to receive these wings. 

The dragon purred, soft and smooth, "Just trust me when I say that the answer to all of your uncertainty is very close." 

The rogue gave out a tired chuckle, wiping his tears away. He looked down at the dragon and smiled. "Giving out riddles to the very end, I see...." he laughed a bit,recovering his old attitude slowly, "Too prideful to actually apologize?" 

"I mean it," the dragon nuzzled his neck, "You are about to meet the answer to one of your many life long questions, my first 'riddle', as you would call them."

And for once,something made sense. 

"Wait do you mean I'm going to-" 

"Awaken, youngling. For he approaches."

Without warning,the color started to fade until there was nothing left but darkness.


	3. Spotted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very short and I'm very ashamed of it

"Commander Song, we've located the target." 

**"I hear a but at the end of that sentence."**

"I didn't anything of the sort"

A sigh **"What's the status ?"**

Seriously, can't any of the new recruits take a joke ?

"He's currently being dragged off by the Shimada's guards. Most likely for interrogation" 

A pause in the comm. Silence from the Strike-Commander herself was never a good sign. 

First, because radio silence is never a good sign.

Second, because the Strike-Commander was a talkative person. To make her silent would mean that she's asleep or that she's very pissed. Unfortunately, it's the latter.

**"Why. Didn't. You. Stop. Them?"**

Now, the man began feeling anxious, but still stayed at his sharpest and most trained."Ma'am, it would've compromised our positions. He just fainted unexpectedly, it was unpla-"

**".....you need to get him out immediately,Johnson. Go regroup,and head in there. We need him alive,and sources tell me that the Shimada don't exactly leave their prisoners alive. I expect you to handle it from there. Improvise if you must,as long as he ends up in one of our carriers breathing,I'll take it as a job well done"**

"No offense,ma'am,but don't you think we should wait out more ?"

**"Look,the longer we wait,the less chance of him being alive.**

"But our position-"

**"Screw your position! This entire operation is based upon recruiting him. Unless you get your sorry asses in there,this whole thing would be a bust. Are we clear ?"**

"..." Dead silence and arising panic.

**"I said ARE WE CLEAR?!**

"Yes, ma'am,"

**"Good, now get in there, shoo....and Johnson?"**

"Yes, ma'am?" 

**"Good luck. I trust you to do this job well. So I'm expecting you to come back alive."**

"Thank you."

**"That will be all."**

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Overwatch story...I am sorry if it's a bit crappy. Also,I want to thank my beta reader,Eclipse,for putting up with my bullshit.


End file.
